Funeral on the Hill
by Leia 96
Summary: Years later, she told a girl with a braid, "They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love." But there used to be. Entry to Starvation Forum's monthly challenge. Theme: What don't you understand? I won.


**The Funeral on the Hill**

She didn't own a black dress. Terr had sent her all these dresses, and not one of them was black. 

It was a surreal feeling to be grieving your entire family and be worried about a stupid black dress.

Just a few months ago, she had owned exactly one dress - her Reaping dress. Now, though, she would never wear it again. 

Screw the dresses, she thought, slamming the closet doors. She slid into a loose white shirt and some pants and went out the door of her too big house. 

She hiked through the forest and up the big hill, where some trees had been cleared for the cemetery. It wasn't strictly necessary to go through the forest - there was a path through the main square - but these trees were _hers_, and she needed them today. These were the trees where her mother had showed her how to discern between maple and oak and cedar and pine, where her older brother had helped her climb a tree for the first time, where her father had taught her how to throw an axe. 

These were the trees that none of them would see again. 

She crested the hill, and found the grave site easily. Three graves, side by side, one man standing over them. 

It was supposed to be their funeral, but she was the only one in attendance. A triple funeral with only one attendee. Two if you counted the man standing over the graves, which Johanna did not. The man did not even know them. 

But because the man was there, Johanna swallowed the tears that threatened to consume her. She was a good pretender, she thought mildly. She could pretend to be weak when really she was strong, as she had in the Games. 

And now, she was about to learn how to pretend to be strong when she was really dying inside. 

The man looked up as she came toward him, her head held high, her shoulders squared. He took a step toward her, a look of the utmost sympathy on his face. Johanna hated it. 

"Jo," he said, opening his arms. She gave them a skeptical look, and he awkwardly let them drop. Arden Wells was a new father, and as a result, a very touchy-feely man by nature, but he always made an effort to remember that Johanna did not like to be touched. Not since the Games. 

Johanna said nothing, and when Arden realized that she was going to continue to say nothing, he spoke instead. He gestured toward her clothes. 

"I thought Terr sent you dresses," he said. Johanna raised an eyebrow. She did not want to discuss her lack of black dresses with him at this moment. Arden shrugged. 

She stood there with her mentor silently, appreciating the fact that he didn't hold her like he wanted to, that he didn't try to talk to her, as he wanted to. 

Looking at the grave on the left, she thought about the last time she'd talked to her brother before the Games, in the Justice Building. 

"You're strong enough to win," he'd told her, holding his little sister close. Because back then, she didn't mind being touched. But he'd been right. She was strong enough to win. 

But she wasn't sure she was strong enough to make it through what came next. The interviews, the cameras, the dresses, the big house, the nightmares, the guilt, the enemies she could feel lurking around every corner, the axe that went everywhere she did because she couldn't trust anyone anymore. She wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for her brother, her mother, her father. Maybe even Arden a little bit. 

But now she'd have to be strong enough, because there was no one. There was no one. Well, she thought bitterly, no one but Arden. Arden who was married with a little girl, who's five brothers and sisters all lived in his big house in the Victor's Village with him, who called her Jo and wanted to hug and discuss her feelings. Who she knew from his year of the Games was killer with an axe, just like she was. Who was one of three people who knew why they were attending this lonely triple funeral this morning. 

"I don't understand," she finally whispered. Arden looked up at her. "I don't understand," she said a little louder. 

Arden gave a sad little sigh. He made to pat her shoulder, but pulled his hand back. He tried, she was realizing, very hard to be someone she could trust. She appreciated that, even if she'd never let him know it. 

"I told you what I thought at the time," Arden said. "I'm not going to say I told you so, though, because I understand. And you should never have been forced to decide." 

He had told her what he thought when President Snow had asked her to come to the Capital and sell her body. Because she was very pretty, he'd told her. Like that should make her feel better. 

Arden had suggested that Johanna agree, especially when Snow'd brought her family into it because, he'd said, it wouldn't be wise to call a man like Snow on his bluff, because with a man like Snow, it was never a bluff. 

Johanna had agonized over the decision but ultimately, she couldn't even hold hands with her brother anymore. How could she open her body so intimately to a stranger? So she'd said no. 

And now they were all dead. Because apparently she'd never _really_ ever left the arena. 

"I just don't understand," she whispered. "I don't understand why these things are still happening."  
>Arden just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. <p>

"I don't . . . why are people still dying? The Games are over now," she said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. She had to pretend she was strong, she reminded herself. 

Arden sighed. 

"The Games are over," he said. "Now you're back in real life. In real life, people die. And it's not fair, and it's awful, but it's real." She looked down at the three graves below her, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. 

"But I won," she said. "I won, and people are still dying." 

"People die no matter who wins," Arden replied sadly. 

Johanna jumped back and jabbed a finger in his direction. 

"Goddammit!" she screamed. "What don't you understand? I won!" She could feel the tears dripping, dripping, but she didn't care, didn't care. What did it matter anyway? "I won, and people are still dying!"  
>Arden looked confused, even scared. Scared for <em>her, <em>she realized. 

"What was the point?" she asked, and when he didn't answer, she took a step toward him. "What was the point in winning if it wasn't for them?" 

Arden hesitated. "But . . . you did win for them." 

"How is that possible?" she asked, her voice lowering. "How is that possible when, if I'd lost, they'd still be alive?" She wrapped her arms around herself again and lowered her eyes to the ground.  
>Arden walked toward her, started to put his hand out to touch her shoulder, then drew it back. <p>

"I don't know, Jo," he said sadly. "I don't know." 

Johanna looked up, wiped her eyes, brushed the hair out of her face. 

"I should . . . um, I should go," she muttered. She turned to walk back through the forest, and Arden silently followed. They walked for a while in silence before she spoke. 

"He didn't send me any black ones," she said, and when Arden looked confused, she continued. "You asked if Terr sent me dresses. And he did. But none of them were black." She gestured vaguely toward the white shirt she wore. 

Arden smiled a small smile. 

"You know, Jo, he's not going to like that you've cut your hair," Arden said. Johanna couldn't help but give him a small smile in return as she tugged on the uneven strands that now fell to around her shoulders. 

"I'm thinking of chopping all of it off, just for him." With one last look at Arden, Johanna turned and went back into her house. Once he heard the door click shut, Arden turned to walk home, thinking that even if the Games had broken her, Jo wasn't beyond fixing. And maybe that was the point: some day, she'd be able to live again. And once that happened, maybe she would see that it had all been worth it.

_**AN: **Hope you enjoyed that – I know I did. Please review, even if only to tell me how much it sucked =P. Don't you just love Johanna so much?_


End file.
